People Come To Paris, To

To Love One Child And To Love All Children, Whether Living Or Dead -somewhere These Two Loves Come Together. To Love A No-good But Humble Punk And To Love An Honest Man Who Believes Himself To Be An Honest Man -somewhere These, Too, Come Together.

He Says He’s Lonely, Horribly Lonely Because Of This Love He Feels For Her. She Says She’s Lonely Too. She Doesn’t Say Why.

Fidelity, Enforced And Unto Death, Is The Price You Pay For The Kind Of Love You Never Want To Give Up, For Someone You Want To Hold Forever, Tighter And Tighter, Whether He's Close Or Far Away, Someone Who Becomes Dearer To You The More You've Sacrificed For His Sake.

We, Her Children, Are Heroic, Dersperate.

Suddenly, All At Once, She Knows, Knows That He Doesn't Understand Her, That He Never Will, That He Lacks The Power To Understand Such Perverseness. And That He Can Never Move Fast Enough To Catch Her.